


Calamity

by JellyfishWeeb100



Series: The Witch [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asgard, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Domestic Fluff, F/M, I lied theres heavy angst, Magic, Mild Sexual Content, Mythology - Freeform, POV Female Character, Ragnarok, Some Humor, Some angst, but also fighting, soft and domestic loki, the usual, vaguely pagan main character, we're talking twilight of the gods Ragnarok babeyyy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-09-18 00:29:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16984707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyfishWeeb100/pseuds/JellyfishWeeb100
Summary: They say the most joyous victories are won through the most painful battles.You can only hope the same can be said when you join the army of Asgard's fight against a most deadly adversary - of which the chances of defeating are slim to none.





	1. Domestic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to Voodoo - please read that one first or you won't know what the hap is fuckening in this one.
> 
>  
> 
> Also I've never been to Bay Ridge (and did minimal research because I'm lazy) so I hope this chapter sounds even a little bit realistic.

There’s about a fourteen-day period in July where the temperatures reach well into the eighties in New York, and the air is thick with humidity. So much so that even the earth seems to sweat; flowers droop and the clouds become oppressive and heavy. The only creatures unaffected seem to be the cicadas, whose ever-present song only seems to grow louder with the heat.

A bead of perspiration rolls down your forehead, following an already wet path, and your hair clings to your cheeks. The blade in your hand slips with each thrust and jab. Thunder claps overhead, but the sky remains merciless and offers no rain.

Despite your wheezing, burning appearance, your opponent is obnoxiously cool - somehow indifferent to the stiflingly hot temperatures - and leans into his attacks with grace. You’d love to take a moment to admire the effortless advances, but his blade just nearly nicked your cheek and you’re forced back into focus.

You push forward, falter - Loki takes advantage of the opening - and the sound of your blade hitting the ground is a dull thud, drowned out in the aforementioned white noise. You go down next, pressing your entire self to the grass with a groan.

“If you’re winded after two matches, we’re going to need to train together more often.”

You don’t even have to look up to hear the grin behind his words. You make another noise of discomfort and lift your hand to him. He takes it to help you up, and you yank him down. 

He shoots you a harmless glare, but discards his knife next to yours and makes himself comfortable against the ground. They both belong to him - these long, squared, blue things with a split down the center. He says he brought with him from his home planet. Seeing him fight with them, you’d always thought they seemed flashy and impractical, but were, in actuality, very comfortable in your hands. When you explained as such after your first match - one that ended embarrassingly quickly in his favor - he simply laughed. _“If they were anything less than ridiculous-looking, would I even use them?” _He had a point.__

____

____

It had taken him months of convincing to get you to do this- close combat training. You held steadfast in your resolve that your magic would be more than enough to protect you should you be in danger. To that, he’d only give a sad smile and remind you that your magic may not always be with you. There could come a time when it is taken from you - like it had for him.

Loki pulled you atop him, wrapping his arms around your midsection. You’ve been seeing him in more Earth-ly attire lately, as if he’s finally accepting the fact that he’s made a new home for himself here. He wears slacks and whatnot instead of the stifling leathers he loves so much, and today you even get to see him in shorts and a cotton shirt. 

That reminds you of something. “Where’d you get this?”

You tug at the collar of his shirt with an accusatory stare. He smiles nervously. Caught. 

“Alright it’s yours,” he admits. Your stare hardens and he quickly follows up with, “ _You _told me I couldn’t wear a dress shirt in this weather, and I had no alternative... Are you upset?”__

____

____

Damn, you did say that. “No… well yes. But only because it looks better on you.”

His grin returns, spreading wide enough to show teeth. He pulls you closer and his soul glows warm with fondness, dispelling any relief you found in his icy skin. Even so, you can’t help your own smile. 

“Let’s get inside, this heat is going to absolutely kill me,” you announce with a weak attempt to sit up. “Oh no… my bones are turning into soup… go on… save yourself, Loki…”

He laughs, loud and full, and pulls you upright with him. “And you say I’m the dramatic one in this relationship.”

The two of you make the short trek across the backyard and into the house. It’s a tall, yellow building with oak trees lining the sides, creating a natural divide between you and your too-close neighbors. The suburb in Bay Ridge is a far cry from the quiet backroads you grew up on - and wanted very much to return to - but damn, if it wasn’t gorgeous all the same. 

Loki craved a more isolated home too - one where the two of you could share a more quiet life that the streets of New York could never provide, but neither of you could swing it with your SHIELD higher-ups. Since you both remained stubborn in the fact that you wouldn’t be confined to the Avengers’ tower 24/7, the deal was that you would stay in this place that was once used as a safe house. 

No matter how great your efforts, it seems you both can never escape the chains of your past. Loki, for dabbling in world domination, and you, for possessing powers capable of killing without moving a muscle.

Okay, so maybe they have reason to keep the two of you under close inspection. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to bitch about it anyway.

The two of you rarely venture outside the property, only leaving for trips to the store or the tower. During your first week there, Loki had already been recognized by a morning jogger while the two of you were on a walk. Despite the attack on Earth being some years ago, the man’s eyes still widened in fear and he increased his pace to an honest sprint in the other direction. After that, you both decided to keep your freetime to the privacy of the backyard.

You made full use of the gardening space, eager to brush up your skills after spending years between metropolis apartments without any greenery in sight. Something about harvesting your own herbs for potions made you feel whole again. It was another piece you had lost of yourself after being orphaned, and the comfort it brought into your life was second to none.

Well- maybe second to one. Loki often joins you outside, either to help with weeding or to read a book under the canopy of the trees, and your heart swells with a sort of peaceful bliss. 

Occasionally, you have your doubts. You’re happier than ever before in the life you’ve paved for yourself, but you aren’t as much a prisoner here as your partner is.

Some nights, he regales you with tales of his life growing up. Of all the trouble he got into, all the parties and feasts he attended in the royal palace he grew up in. According to his stories, his magic power once well surpassed your own before the Allfather bound him with curses and left him to exile. All of which remind you that he simply isn’t the domestic type.

But then he pulls you closer on the sofa to read you a book, or brings in wild flowers to decorate your hair, and your fears are silenced. He’s all talk of mischief and power, but his actions as of late sing a softer tune. One of kindness and perhaps… exhaustion. Exhausted of constant war and manipulation tactics, a soul more content with quiet than before. 

Sweaty clothes are discarded in the hallway and you step into the shower, your partner following right behind. He washes your hair under the spray, his hands occasionally drifting lower with a playful grin, but you swat him away. You’re determined to clean off the grime of training and won’t have him doing anything to distract you.

Towel-dried and fresh, you order dinner and situate yourself beside him on the kitchen window seat to read. The soft ticking of the clock and the occasional page-flipping creates a perfect lullaby for your sore body, and soon the book blurs before your eyes.

You drift off even before the food arrives and a familiar set of arms holds you close. 

 

When you stir again, moonlight is pouring in through the open windows and bathing your bedroom in white light. You shift, you sore body cracking in several places, and face a sleeping Loki beside you. It must be the middle of the night for him to be so sound asleep- his insomnia and nightmares typically keep him awake for a while. 

_Speaking of nightmares… ___

__Something heavy settles in your gut at the thought. A very unpleasant dream was playing though your mind right before waking, but now you can’t even remember what it was. Only a sense of dread remains of it and you take a deep breath to shake it off._ _

__Your hands are trembling when you bring them up to brush the hair from his eyes. Loki hums and nudges his face closer unconsciously, making you smile. Your heart rate returns to normal as you examine the way his features look while he sleeps. You trace his jaw next, fingers flitting down his neck and chest, all the while wondering how you manage to find yourself in bed with such a beautiful man every night._ _

__Suddenly, cold fingers clamp over yours and you give a surprised yelp. He cracks one eye open, and then another, a grin taking over his face._ _

__“Can’t sleep?” His voice rolls over you like the ocean’s tide when he’s sleepy like this, and it always has the exact same effect on you no matter how many times you hear it. His smile widens when he sees your blush, so vibrant it stands out even in the dark room._ _

__In seconds, you hands are above your head and his body looms over yours, lips finding your neck and the shell of your ear. Between the filthy sounds his kisses make, he asks, “What’s keeping you awake? What’s on your mind?”_ _

__He knows you far too well. The thought alone brings emotion into your voice when you whisper, “just thinking about how lucky I am.”_ _

__His motions slow and he pulls back to look at you, his face dead-serious as if to analyze the truth behind your words. When he sees the sincerity in your smile, he returns it twofold and kisses you firmly on the mouth._ _

__Soon, loving kisses turn more heated and your worry about the nightmare is long gone._ _

__

__The following morning finds you darting through the house, pulling your clothes on while stuffing some of the cold takeout from the night before into your mouth. Loki ambles into the kitchen, sulking as he makes a pot of coffee. Your blood is still boiling from fighting with him moments before about letting you oversleep and be late for your shift - a fight you often had, since he didn’t understand why you needed to work so much anyway._ _

__He also didn’t seem to understand (or care) that constant tardiness will get you fired soon if you aren’t more careful._ _

__Technically, he is right, you don’t need a job. SHIELD covers your living expenses, and if you wanted to buy something nice you could just beg Tony to cover it. But you liked being able to go out and do something everyday and build up a savings while you were at it. Unlike Loki, you can’t study and train all day without wanting to gouge your eyes out._ _

__After a very abbreviated morning routine, you kiss him on the cheek, laughing at the annoyed sound he makes._ _

__“I’m sorry for this morning. I shouldn’t have thrown a shoe at you.”_ _

__He pouts from behind his mug, but you can see the way he’s fighting a smile. “It really hurt. That was very immature of you.”_ _

__You quirk an eyebrow and he sighs._ _

__“ _Fine. _I’m sorry for biting you…” then, in a less sarcastic tone, “and for making you late again. I just thought you might need the sleep.”___ _

____Your playfulness dims a bit and you kiss him again. “All is forgiven. I’ll see you around two, unless I get fired before then.”_ _ _ _

____He chuckles and walks you to the door, sending you off with a wave._ _ _ _

____The cafe you work as a barista for is only a few blocks from the house, right where the suburbs merge with the city center. Next door is a sandwich shop and across the street is a dog park, already littered with people even though the day has just begun._ _ _ _

____You scurry inside, praying you can slip into the back unnoticed, but Lady Luck must not be on your side this morning. Your boss calls your name from across the dining room and you halt in your tracks._ _ _ _

____“Where the hell have you been? The new kid had to cover you for the last thirty minutes and he has no clue what he’s doing!” Brandon, only a few years older than you, owns the business. Typically, he’s pretty kind, albeit strict, so he must be righteously pissed to be chewing you out in front of customers._ _ _ _

____The “new kid,” Niel, a boy no older than sixteen, slouches in shame from across the room and quickly returns to dish duty now that you’re here. A few people are staring up from their screens or newspapers to watch the scene. Your cheeks bloom with color and you snag your lip between your teeth._ _ _ _

____“I’m sorry. I-I know I’ve been late all week, and I don’t really have an excuse…”_ _ _ _

____Brandon’s eyes narrow, but some of the tension drains from his posture at your apology. “Fine, whatever. Hurry and get started, we’ve got people waiting on drinks.”_ _ _ _

____“Right!” you smile in relief and start heading back to put your apron on._ _ _ _

____“Oh, and your shirt’s on backwards.”_ _ _ _

____“...Right. I’ll fix that.”_ _ _ _

____You pull the aporn over your head and head to the kitchen, getting into the swing of things pretty quickly. Making drinks seemed to come naturally to you, and you enjoyed it immensely. It feels almost like mixing potions, and since you’re practiced in that area, you easily memorize drink recipes or even make changes to them when you feel it’s necessary. Even being tardy all week, you know Brandon wouldn’t dare fire you. You’ve helped his business flourish exponentially with your magic touch (literally)._ _ _ _

____An hour later, you’re elbow-deep in dishwater, helping Neil clean up after the morning rush. Brandon pokes his head through the doors to the dish room - you assume it’s to check on your progress with the mountain of mugs and utensils, but one glance at his expression and your heart begins to race. You can feel his soul flickering and pulsing with anxiety._ _ _ _

____“What is it?” you blurt before he get a word out. With the door open, you can hear the sounds from dining room, or rather, the lack thereof. The usual din of conversation is little more than a low mumble._ _ _ _

____“We have… a special guest. And he’s looking for you.”_ _ _ _

____Momentarily, you forget to breathe. The spoons in your hands falling back into the water with a quiet _plink _. When you have a visitor, things usually end very badly.______

____

______Images of your front door broken in and hands reaching for you from the darkness of your old apartment suddenly flash through your mind, but you quickly stamp them down. You wipe your hands dry and follow Brandon back out._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______The second you step through the swinging doors, you melt with relief. Even from across the room, you can sense his golden soul, bright like the sun. You had no reason to be scared._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______The dining room is quiet, not because of any threat of danger but because people are whispering to each other and snapping photos of the man occupying a table near the window. The cashier you work with (Tiffany, was it?) is asking him if he needs anything while nervously wringing her hands._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______His eyes move past hers towards your direction and he breaks into a smile._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______“There you are! I was wondering if I had the right address.”_ _ _ _ _ _

____

______You stop at the table and cross your arms, trying to look serious but failing miserably to fight the contagious smile on your lips._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______“It’s good to see you again, Thor. How’re things back home?”_ _ _ _ _ _

____

______He pushes the chair out from across the table and gestures for you to sit. “Oh, they’re great! I single-handedly battled a pack of undead wolves trying to attack Asgard, found a rare artifact in a fire demon’s dungeon-”_ _ _ _ _ _

____

______“Right , right,” you cut in quickly. As interesting as that all sounds, you know he can go on for a while. “What are you doing here, though? Loki and I are trying to keep a low profile, and you showing up at my work sort of draws attention.” One quick glance to the other customers still watching with wide eyes, and he finally understands what you mean._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______“I know, that’s why I wore a disguise!” he gestures to his clothes and you stare at him with raised eyebrows. He gestures again, more fervently this time._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______“Thor, you’re just wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”_ _ _ _ _ _

____

______He rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair in a sort of defeated motion. “Exactly my point! I’m dressed as an average midgardian. No one can tell it’s me, plus-” he tugs the hat he’s wearing down a little lower over his eyes. “I have this based-ball cap, or whatever it’s called, from Steven Rogers. He wears one when he goes out in public to hide his identity.” He smirks a little, as if daring you to argue with his perfect disguise, and the expression reminds you just how similar he can be to his brother sometimes._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______“That really only works in movies, Thor. Everyone here can tell it’s you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

____

______He frowns and opens his mouth to disagree, when a small voice cuts him off. A young girl is standing by the table now, waving a notebook in his face and asking if she can pretty-please get an autograph from him._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______He swallows whatever words he was about to say and gives her a tight smile, taking the book to sign. Unable to hold back anymore, your laughter echoes through the quiet room._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______ _ _ _ _

____

______Brandon let you go home early, apparently too stunned by getting a picture with an Avenger to care about your poor work ethic anymore. You walk the short distance home with the god of thunder at your side, filling him in on what you and Loki have been up to the past few months he’s been away. He listens intently to every word and it makes you feel a little guilty for not hearing his stories back at the cafe. Maybe you’ll ask him to tell you about them later. Right now, you’re stepping inside and looking around for Loki._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______It looks like you won’t have to wait long. His voice carries in from the study down the hall._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______“Back so soon? Did that idiot actually fire you?” He enters the room, holding a thick textbook on… something scientific looking. You can’t even tell what language it’s supposed to be in. He stops in his tracks when he sees the massive unit of a man next to you and his eyes narrow._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______“What are you doing here?” he grumbles and drops onto the couch, textbook forgotten on the floor next to him._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______Thor’s smile dims ever-so-slightly, but he answers brightly just the same. “I’m back on Earth after being away for quite some time; I thought I should pay my brother and his lover a visit.”_ _ _ _ _ _

____

______His reply is nearly instant, as if he’d been expecting Thor’s words from the start. “You don’t have to visit just because you’re on Earth. I can do without seeing you all the time.”_ _ _ _ _ _

____

______Thor’s smile turns sad and he hangs his head, pushing a sigh through his nose. You shoot your partner a look and hiss, “Loki!”_ _ _ _ _ _

____

______To his credit, he has the decency to look guilty. He even mumbles an apology, which is major progress in your eyes. For a long time, Loki would give his brother the most brutal cold shoulder you’ve ever seen- even going so far as pretending he didn’t exist._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______It took a lot of convincing, mostly on your part, that even though they didn’t get along so well back on Asgard, Thor had done a lot for him in recent years and had proven to desire a better relationship with his brother. The least Loki could do was put in a little effort himself._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______You disappear into the kitchen briefly to prepare some tea and when you return they’re already bickering about something. So much for progress._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______“Boys, let’s play nice,” you sigh, placing three mugs on the coffee table. Both of them stop their arguing but snatch up their cups violently, like they’re barely holding back from ripping each other apart and the only thing stopping them is taking measured sips of tea in tense silence._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______“Soooo… Thor,” you place your own mug down and turn to him. “Is this just a friendly visit, or is there something more you needed?”_ _ _ _ _ _

____

______He stops with the mug halfway to his lips, thinking hard. His eyes widen and he goes, “oh! Yes! Steve Rogers is requesting you both come to the tower. It’s very urgent.”_ _ _ _ _ _

____

______How he manages not to mention important things like that is beyond you- without your prodding, he may have just forgotten all together._ _ _ _ _ _

____

______Loki seems to be sharing your thoughts, pinching the bridge of his nose with a slowly exhaled sigh. “I’ll go get our things together.”_ _ _ _ _ _

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! The first chapter of the sequel. After an eight-month wait. Holy Shit.
> 
> I'm really sorry this took so long to produce. I don't like to make excuses, but I'll give it to you guys straight- I've been having one of the worst creative blocks of all time. Not only with my writing but with other hobbies as well. My job keeps me crazy busy so by the time I get home every night I'm just not in the mood to create anything. I just wanna sit in my underwear and watch Seinfeld.
> 
> But no more sitting around! I'm making an effort to set aside time for drawing and writing every day so I can get back into the swing of things.


	2. Bad Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depictions of violence, tw: emetophobia

The second you slide onto the couch, you know you won’t be leaving anytime soon. Your exhausted body practically melts into the pillows and you have to physically restrain yourself from moaning. You don’t even care about getting dirt and blood on Tony’s sitting room furniture, which probably costs more than your house. 

“Drinks, anyone?” the aforementioned billionaire is brandishing a bottle of whisky and starts to pour lowballs filled with ice without waiting for an answer. You extend a limp arm and he hands over a glass.

The glass is freezing and your heated fingertips leave smudges in the frost. You take two long swigs, nearly pounding the drink in one go before setting it down. The effect is immediate and you feel the aching, shaking of your muscles become distant and calm.

Loki is taking slower sips, his free hand absently rubbing your thigh where it presses against his. The rest of the team is in a similar state, silently enjoying a drink after a difficult mission. Some are sitting like you, letting the pull of exhaustion take them, while some are standing and mulling over the events of the day- including, of course, the captain who’s wearing what you’ve started calling his “brooding face.”

Eventually, Tony offers to order dinner and some of the tension seems to break from the air. Soft smiles are exchanged and Clint cracks a few jokes while the team decides what to order, and just like that they seem to be feeling back to normal.

At first, the transition between enhanced soldiers and a regular group of friends jarred you to your core. You’ve been with them on multiple missions now, and this is the standard they follow. Fight, survive, recover. Rinse and repeat. The way they bounce back, you’ve come to realize, is an impressive feat of coping they’ve all had to develop in their line of work. Even though they risk their lives daily, they still have to find ways to be normal. 

You struggled with it (and still do, to some extent), recovering after a mission. The first few times they asked for your assistance, the following weeks were always filled with guilt. Even for a righteous cause, taking lives or putting civilians in danger weighed heavily on you. 

You were in hell when Natasha came to visit you one night, a few days after a particularly rough job. A handful of bystanders had been swept up in the fight and killed, and you were not taking it well. Even Loki couldn’t seem to bring you out of it, so he called over someone who knew guilt and internal torment better than anyone.

You had expected her to be harsh- to tell you to get over yourself. That was what you’d been telling yourself over and over again after all. Instead, she surprised you with her gentle kindness, coaxing you out of bed and back into a normal routine. She taught you how she copes with it all, how she’s had to practice forgiving herself time and time again. 

You always seem to underestimate her, and she surpasses your expectations every time. It’s one of the reasons you admire her so much.

You glance at her over your glass and see her splitting into a smile after one of Clint’s stories and you count your lucky stars you have such strong friends.

A clap from behind you has you jolting, almost spilling your cup. “Alright, what have our favorite fugitives been up to?” You shoot Tony a glare, feeling your cheeks heat up. He knows how much you hate being the center of attention.

“Oh yeah,” Steve’s intense pondering session seems to lift and he looks over at the two of you with a smile. “Thanks again for coming on such short notice. We’ve been stretched a little thin lately with Bruce and Sam taking some personal time.”

The mention of Sam’s name makes your heart ache ever so slightly. He’s been a close friend to you for some time now, but since you moved away you’ve seen him less and less. You were silently hoping he’d be here to help with the mission, only to find out he’s visiting relatives back west. 

Steve, to his credit, has been making an effort to be kind to both you and Loki as of late, even apologizing for the way the two of you got off on the wrong foot. He sheepishly explained that his views of justice tend to be black and white, and when someone came into his life challenging that and showing distrust in the very organization he fought for, it rubbed him the wrong way. Not to mention, since Loki’s attack on New York, he’s a little wary of those magically gifted. 

You owed him a bit of an apology too. He met you in a very hostile frame of mind which didn’t exactly make it easy to become friends. You told him as much, and it seemed to go a long way in easing the tension between the two of you. 

“You’re lucky I don’t have an early shift tomorrow. If I show up late again, I think my boss might actually wring my neck.” 

Tony swivels his head to look at you, his eyes comically wide. “When did you get a job, hocus-pocus?”

Steve’s eyes have gone a bit hard as well. “What if someone recognizes you there?”

You roll your eyes, the liquor in your system emboldening you for a little back-talk. “Relax, cap. It’s just a little side thing I’m doing at a coffee shop. I can’t be cooped up all day, I’ll die.” You turn now to Tony, “Do I need permission to get a job now?”

“I tried telling her the same things, believe me her mind is made up,” Loki calmly states from beside you. Even though it sounds a little harsh, you know it’s his way of standing up for you and your gaze softens. 

Steve sighs and situates himself on the floor, cradling his empty glass. “Just be careful. I know you can handle yourself, but I don’t want you taking unnecessary risks.” His voice is more captain-ly now and you find yourself nodding reluctantly. 

“He’s right,” Thor interjects from his chair (the piece of furniture looks absolutely dwarfed under his frame and you have to bite back a laugh), “you’re part of the team now. We don’t want to risk losing you again.”

The others have tuned into the conversation now and are nodding in agreement, Clint with his trademark grin and Natasha and Tony with more somber expressions. The incident with the cult, now over a year ago, is still a bitter memory that you would all like to avoid repeating. 

That dizzying, domestic feeling blooms in your chest for what must be the hundredth time this week and you break into a smile. 

“Thank you, Thor.”

 

By the time you’d finished catching up with everyone over pizza, it was deep into the night. If you stayed up any longer, you most surely would have passed out on your feet. Tony offered a suite in the residential section of the tower to stay the night in, and you gladly took it.

Loki, as bright-eyed as ever, drags you to the elevator and down the hall to the room you’d be using. You shouldn’t have expected any less from Tony, but it still takes your breath away seeing the gorgeously furnished studio apartment. Sleep momentarily forgotten, you rush to the balcony to admire the view of the city. 

A few minutes later, there is a gentle hand on your elbow, guiding you back through the apartment and into the bathroom. Wordlessly, you sink onto the edge of the bathtub while Loki fishes around under the sink for a first aid kit.

Soon enough, you fall into a familiar pattern. He cleans the blood and grime from your skin with an alcohol wipe and you treat him in turn. After your wounds have been attended to, his movements still. His fingers trace soft patterns over the scars and bruises on your arms, a distant expression on his face. Sometime later, you feel your eyes start to close, drifting off in a sitting position to his loving touches and quiet humming.

If you’d been any less conscious, you wouldn’t have heard his next murmured words. “They’re right, you know. I don’t know what I’d do if we were separated like that again.”

With some effort, your eyes creak back open. He opens his mouth. Shuts it. You sit patiently, letting your soul meld with his to show him he has your undivided attention. 

“I didn’t know I could feel so attached to one person like this. Being imprisoned in the tower was torture; I vowed to escape one day and leave this planet in shreds on my way out. And now look at me.” He laughs softly, shaking his head. “If I went back in time and told myself what my life is like now, how perfectly at home I am with you, working with the Avengers no less, I would have laughed out loud.

“So, I don’t… I honestly don’t know what would become of me if you were taken away again.”

Your sleepy expression shifts into a smile and you card your fingers through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I have something worth fighting for now, after all.” 

A comfortable silence fills the room, a warm fondness spreading through you. He leans up, presses a kiss to each cheek, and pulls you to your feet.

“Let’s go to bed. You look terrible.”

You give him a playful smack on the arm and he just grins like an idiot.

 

An arrow flies past your cheek, close enough to graze the skin. You give a sharp hiss and touch the bleeding spot, a deafening noise filling your ears as your mind comes into focus.

Blinking rapidly to orient yourself, the world takes shape in the form of brilliant fire and smoke. You’re standing on a street, one lined with stone houses, but you recognize none of it. An arm grips your elbow and yanks, uprooting you from your spot just as a piece of burning building comes crashing down. You jerk your head to see who’s pulling you along and meet the frantic blue eyes of Loki. His cheeks are rubbed with ash and blood and his hair is in disarray. 

_“Focus!” ___

__The deafening white noise in the air, you realize, is screaming. Absolute wailing and destruction and crunching metal._ _

__You come to a halt, pulling your hand free. Like a deer in headlights, you turn around slowly to take in the scene once more, your eyes landing on a young girl across the road._ _

__She’s kneeling beside a house and you launch into action, determined to pull her out of this dangerous environment. As you approach her side, you realize her shoulders are shaking with sobs, loud, ugly ones that join the cacophony of noise. She’s gripping something- someone- and you look down to see the fresh corpse of the woman who must be her mother._ _

__You lurch and turn away sharply, the world fading to black before you get the chance to scream._ _

__

__When light returns behind your eyelids, someone is calling your name. You open them slowly and meet Loki’s panicked expression above you. The dream comes back all over again. The fire, the screaming, the corpse-_ _

__Pushing him aside, you bolt out of bed and into the bathroom as quickly as your legs will take you, emptying the contents of your stomach into the sink. Even when there’s nothing left to throw up, you clutch the counter with shaking hands and force your heart to stop pounding. A sob jerks through you, rivers of tears following suit. Even after Loki’s pulled you back into his comforting embrace, you can’t seem to stop them. You cry until there’s nothing left and your head aches._ _

__Sometime later, you become aware of the soft bed under you and fingers gently braiding your hair. Your head is in Loki’s lap and blankets are holding you in a secure cocoon. How long you’ve been sitting like this, you have no idea._ _

__You squint against the light streaming across your face, your chest seizing in a yawn. Loki’s ministrations and humming stops and he watches you warily._ _

__“How are you feeling?”_ _

__You sit up, freeing your arms from the bedding. Your mouth tastes of minty toothpaste and you distantly remember Loki helping clean you up after your minor episode like it was eons ago, but had to have only been an hour or so since._ _

__“I’m okay,” you’re voice croaks and it sounds very much like you are not okay. You clear your throat and try again. “I’m okay. I had a-” you cringe, “a bad nightmare.”_ _

__His expression is tender and he unworks the braids from your hair. “I figured as such. You were crying out in your sleep.”_ _

__“I’m sorry for scaring you.” And you mean it. His hands, though subtly, are trembling._ _

__He’s silent for a moment, doing his best to broach the subject carefully. “Is it Herrschaft? If it is, you should know I will go to any means to make sure they cannot harm you again-”_ _

__“No, no,” you shake your head, enclosing his hands in yours. “It was something else. It was- we were in this town I didn’t recognize. Everything was on fire… something very terrible had happened but honestly it was so short and I barely even remember it now.”_ _

__You give him what you hope is a reassuring smile, but his concern is still palpable._ _

__You lean in and bump your nose against his throat, leaving kisses over his jaw. “Thank you for being here for me.”_ _

__He finally rewards you with a half smile. “Come on, let’s pack our things and go home.”_ _

__

__Work that afternoon is brutal. The closing shift seems to drag on forever and your body is hurting and sore from the mission the night before._ _

__Compared to others you’ve helped the team with, this one was relatively easy. A simple information retrieval from a suspicious organization that SHIELD is monitoring. However, there had been a trap laying wait for the team and things had devolved into a firefight._ _

__Still, no one was badly injured and Natasha managed to find the file while everyone was distracted, so you consider it a win. Even though your ribs scream with every twist and turn as you make orders._ _

__Brandon, of course, was bursting with questions the entire time about your celebrity guest yesterday. You managed to convince him you met the god through some inconsequential passing during a trip to New York, but you could tell he didn’t buy it completely. Damn Thor for nearly blowing your cover._ _

__Even though you work with the Avengers on these smaller missions, SHIELD does an excellent job of keeping your identity fairly hidden from public eye and you want to keep it that way._ _

__You have no real way of knowing if the people who hurt you before will come back to try again in the future, and you’d like to stay under the radar for as long as possible. It was another one of the conditions you demanded after the whole incident in exchange for playing by their rules._ _

__When you finally help Brandon close up, the sky is painted in purples and pinks with the setting sun. You’re completely dead on your feet and it’s a wonder you’re even still functioning._ _

__Only about a hundred yards from the shop, you spot a familiar silhouette waiting for you on a park bench, wearing his favorite dress shirt and slacks despite the humidity._ _

__“This is new,” you remark with a grin, linking your arm in his as you make your way down the sidewalk. “Since when do you walk me home?”_ _

__Loki smiles at you, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was worried for you. Besides, it’s getting dark out.”_ _

__“You know I can take care of mys-”_ _

__“I know.”_ _

__For a moment, the two of you stop and stare each other down. You give in first, your expression softening and shifting to the ground._ _

__“I’ve really scared you, huh? It was only a nightmare.”_ _

__“I know,” he repeats. “But it just hasn’t been sitting right with me all day. The longer you were gone the more anxious I became until finally I just had to come and wait for you here.” He’s making gestures with his hands now, rushing to explain himself._ _

__“I understand… thank you for walking me. I’m sorry for being rude.”_ _

__He pulls you closer and presses his face to your hair, sighing quietly. “I get all twisted up into knots, driving myself crazy worrying over you sometimes. It isn’t your fault,” He adds the last part quickly upon seeing your frown. “I just haven’t had something so worth protecting before.”_ _

__The rest of the walk is quiet, aside from the bustle of traffic. When you reach the house, you turn to him with a wide smile._ _

__“Hey, how about I show you how to make sweet potato soup? It’s one of my favorites.”_ _

__He breaks into a grin himself, his eyes lighting up. “That sounds wonderful. Though, I must admit, I have no idea what a ‘sweet potato’ is.”_ _

__

__The rest of the evening is spent in the kitchen. Even though it’s a fairly simple recipe, it seems the two of you do more goofing off than cooking and the meal isn’t finished until hours later. Bellies full, you both drift off on the sofa to one of your favorite movies._ _

__It doesn’t take long for images of fire and death to fill your mind once again._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry the pace will pick up eventually... one day


	3. Seems like an unoriginal approach to witchcraft but... ok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's a bit short, but more is on the way!

_“You’re quitting??”_

Brandon’s shocked response was something you had expected, but it still sets off a jackhammer in your skull. You cringe, bring a finger to your lips, and he snaps his gaping jaw shut remembering you had warned him of your awful headache just minutes ago.

“Sorry!” He stage whispers. Brandon’s outburst caught Neil’s attention, who is now very obviously eavesdropping as he rinses the dishes. He stutters for a moment more, speechless from your out-of-the-blue announcement. “...A-are you sure? You’re the best barista I have, isn’t there some way I can change your mind?” Then, with his eyes narrowing, “Wait, you aren’t dumping me for one of those hipster urban chains are you?”

You roll your eyes - regretting it almost immediately at the fresh wave of pain - and point backwards at the polished, modern furniture and bare-bulb lighting in the dining room. “First of all, Brandon, this place is about as ‘hipster’ as it gets. And of course that’s not why! I love working here. But I… I need to take an extended leave of absence… and I don’t know when I’ll be back in Bay Ridge, honestly.” 

What started as a playful rant ends in a mumble and you suddenly find the floor (or the walls or the ceiling or anywhere besides his face) very interesting. He makes a huff of disappointment, crossing his arms. 

Before he can respond, you add, “We’re leaving tomorrow morning. I’m sorry this is so last minute, but… there isn’t anything I can do.”

You finally meet his eyes and are surprised to find genuine hurt there. Even Neil has stopped washing plates to stare in open disbelief, no longer pretending not to pay attention.

Brandon sighs through his nose and lets his arms hang at his sides. “Can’t you at least tell me what this is about? If you’re in trouble or anything… well, we all watch out for each other here. I can help, is what I’m saying.” He scratches the back of his head. Now it’s his turn to glance around the room uncomfortably.

A rueful smile makes its way to your face and you shake your head (gently!). It’s true, your coworkers have been almost like a second family to you (or third or fourth… really, these people keep springing up out of nowhere lately), and you know Brandon would help you in a heartbeat if he could. That’s why deciding to leave even took you this long.

It took Loki snapping at you to put yourself and your health before other people’s feelings “for once in your damn life” before you caved. 

“I wish there was something you could do. The truth is, I’m just really sick lately. I have to move back to NYC to be close to my doctor.”

 

It wasn’t a _complete_ lie, you mused as you walked away from the coffee shop, heart heavy in your chest.

You really are going back to the city to be near your doctor. You just didn’t mention that doctor happens to be renowned scientists Dr. Bruce Banner and Dr. Cho, and you didn’t mention that you’ll be staying in the Avengers tower for the duration of their tests. 

You really have been sick lately, but you pointedly left out the fact that your migraines and fainting spells were from lack of sleep. And that lack of sleep came from vivid nightmares of fire and corpses and-

You stop abruptly on the sidewalk, causing a few people to run into you. Nope. You aren’t going down that train of thought. You are going to stand here and collect yourself and ignore the strange looks you’re receiving because you are an adult and you can act like one.

The sun is high in the sky, shining directly overhead like the beacon of hellfire it is. You’ve only been outside a few minutes and a sheen of perspiration is collecting on your brow and nose. The brightness increases the pounding in your skull tenfold. Even so, you decide a walk might help clear your mind after that emotional debacle with your boss. 

You regret wearing a black shirt as your body begins to flush in earnest as you trek down the street and through the dog park. You direct your feet to the small path of shade created by the treeline and feel a small swell of relief. 

Your bag sways at your hip, bumping into your thigh with an obnoxious clatter at every step. You only kept a few things in your work locker (after returning your uniform and apron) - a can of aerosol deodorant, a bottle of aspirin, a small, tiger’s eye charm for luck. Still, the weight of it quickly drives you to frustration. 

You spot a particularly old oak tree, with roots huge and knotted along the grassy floor. You find a comfortable position and lean back to watch the sky, petting the few dogs that find you curious and stray from their owners in your direction. Soon enough, you feel your frustrations and sadness quiet, and even the heat feels almost pleasant.

The second your eyelids feel heavy, you force them open again. You must look pretty strange, you realize, with your eyes bugged-out staring at the park, but you don’t care. You can’t fall asleep. Especially not here.

Once you realize that your body is trying hard to turn your meditative afternoon into Nap Time, you gather your things to leave. A young boy and his father pass you by, chasing after their furry mass of a dog. The boy’s face is smudged with dirt, and you realize this, but your brain is soon filled with images of soot-smeared bodies against your control. A couple is walking the trail ahead of you, hand in hand, but they’re replaced with a soldier supporting the weight of a wounded comrade. 

You quicken your pace until you’re nearly jogging home.

As soon as your hand touches the front door knob, it’s being tugged open from inside. Loki’s form takes up the frame and he meets your disturbed stare. He pulls you inside right as your breathing is bordering on shallow pants, but a weight falls off your shoulders once the door clicks shut behind you. You’re safe here.

He guides you to the kitchen window seat and sits you down, rubbing circles in your neck and shoulders until your body stops shaking. 

“What happened? You said you would only be gone an hour at most, I was starting to get worried,” his concerned eyes scan you and he sighs through his nose. “Although, it looks like I had every right to be.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, to which he gives you a pointed stare. “I know - I know you said not to keep apologizing all the time but I really am. I hate making you worry. It was just the dream again.”

His lips form a grim line and he sits beside you cross-legged. “I take it the sleeping pills didn’t help any then?”

You shake your head, moisture jostling free from your eyes. Last night, you happened upon an old bottle of Doxepin in the back of your medicine cabinet from your anxiety-riddled recovery after the cult. There were only a few capsules left, and you were so desperate for a restful night that you willingly ignored the expiration date and popped two. 

Even though the medication had worked wonders for you back then, throwing you into a black void for hours where the memories couldn’t haunt you, it didn’t seem to do a thing this time around.

Loki pushes himself off the seat with reassurance that he won’t be gone long and disappears down the hall to the study. When he returns, he holds a slim, black book and a stack of candles. 

“I’ve been looking into an alternative remedy for your problem - I think this spell here might be able to help you…” he thumbs through the book, eventually finding his dog-eared page and flips it around to show you. 

The book is worn with yellowing pages and fading text, making Loki’s small, inked notes in the margins stand out. “Have you been studying this? Just to help me?”

The man has the audacity to give a sheepish smile. Your heart may just explode.

Before you have a chance to start crying on him, he adds, “I have little doubt it will work, but I’m afraid it may be too strong for me to perform alone. I’ll need your help too.”

You reread the text again and examine his notes before signalling your affirmation.

“Of course, where do we start?”

 

You tried to contain your laughter after everything had been set up. You really did.

Couches and shelves had been pushed aside in the living room to make space for a sheet, on which Loki carefully drew a pentagram with red chalk, filling in each space of the star with numerals and symbols. Next, candles were positioned on each point and you were instructed to lay in the center of everything. You lost it when he began pouring a salt ring around the entire thing.

He cut you a bewildered expression and you clamped a hand over your mouth. “What’s so funny?”

You shook your head, biting your lip to stifle yourself. It would take too long to try and explain to Loki the kind of cliche rituals depicted in the occult and horror films of your generation. Since Tony had stuck to his guns calling you by nicknames you didn’t understand, he had finally gotten you to sit down and watch some.

“Nothing, nothing. Carry on.” 

He shakes his head at your antics and finishes the whole set by placing dried chamomile on your stomach and rubbing some kind of oil into your temples. The scent of it is sharp and makes your face scrunch up. 

“Alright, I’ll need you to say these phrases next,” he lowers the book to your eye-level and taps his finger on a block of text at the bottom of the page.

“Don’t worry about pronunciation, it’s all pretty phonetic,” he adds once he sees you squinting at the foreign words. 

“If you say so… just don’t laugh at me, alright?” 

You wet your lips before stammering through the first phrase, “eirdarlaus austur andi, létta gripid a mig…”

From your peripheral you can see the light of the candles beginning to flicker and sway, pushed by an invisible wind. The floor beneath you starts to buzz almost imperceptibly. 

Loki takes notice of this as well and gives you an encouraging smile. “Keep going, you’re doing marvelously.”

Emboldened, you breeze through the next few stanzas, “leyf-du mér ad sofa og roa hugann minn.”

As soon as the last word flows past your lips, the wind increases and the light is snuffed out completely. Your body is beginning to feel heavy and the last thing you register is the book slipping from your fingers and smacking you square in the nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am praying to **god** right now that none of my readers know any icelandic because that spell was screwed over so badly by google translate it could be on an episode of Botched.


	4. Oh Shit oh shit oh

A cool, easy breeze sends stray hairs across your face. Gone is the sweltering summer heat, replaced with the crispness of spring. The field you sit in is covered in blue as far as the eye can see, and you pluck one of the flowers closest to you for inspection. 

You hold the bud to your face and run a finger over it’s five petals, inhaling its fragrance.

_It’s a Forget-Me-Not _, you realize, and tuck it into your hair.__

____

____

Dark clouds are sweeping over the horizon, blotting out the setting sun. Thunder rolls somewhere distant. It leaves a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach.

_Fear _, someone whispers, though you are alone.__

____

____

Or, at least you thought you were. There’s a dark mound amidst the flowers in the distance, which you initially mistook for a stump. As you stare, that feeling coils more harshly inside you.

Leaving your grassy spot, you begin to trek through the field, doing your best to avoid stomping on the flowers. You lose your footing and crush a patch of blue, and jolt when the flowers begin screaming beneath you.

You retract your foot with lightning speed and keep going. _Won’t do that again _.__

____

____

As you close the distance between you and the not-stump thing, you can make out more details. Pale skin, paler than even paper, and black hair. A man then, presumably.

You approach his form and carefully turn him onto his back, dread coursing through you when your hands meet icy skin.

It takes a long minute for your brain to catch up with what you’re looking at. 

It’s Loki. Your Loki. 

His body is rigid as stone and his lips match the color of the flowers surrounding you. His eyes are bloodshot and unblinking, his green irises replaced with ruby red. 

Your hand goes to his chest to feel for a heartbeat and comes away sticky with blood. You stare at it for a long time, bile rising in your throat.

The field that was once lush begins to wilt until your surroundings are brown and dead. The smell of smoke is becoming stronger and stronger until you gag.

You reach a shaking hand into your hair and pull out the Forget-Me-Not. It’s petals slowly turn to ash before your eyes and all you can do is scream.


	5. What, like a premonition?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader-chan may be starting to lose it

With his lithe form, it’s easy to forget how strong Loki is.

You stare in awe as he lifts both your packed duffel bags in one hand and grabs your purse with the other before heading back out the front door, all without even breaking a sweat. 

You’re currently stationed on the bed, taking short sips of tea in your pajamas. You feel guilty for not helping, but he had been stern in ordering you to rest while he loaded the car. 

You didn’t say much to him after he managed to pull you from yet another panic attack this morning. An irrational sense of shame and guilt always follows your episodes, but this time was different. Raw terror kept your lips sealed as opposed to your insecurities.

The thought makes you choke on your drink and you squeeze your eyes shut, drawing long breaths through your nose. In… one… two… three… out. Repeat.

Clearly, the spell hadn’t worked as designed last night. Loki, you could tell, was doing his best not to pry about what you saw, but worry was starting to eat at him. 

He’s been looking a little worse for wear lately. He gets little sleep as it is, and now his morning alarm is your fitful cries beside him. He’s been spending far longer with his books as of late too, and you didn’t put the pieces together until the sleep spell that he’s been immersed in studying a cure for your nightmares.

One more look at the circles under his eyes and the guilt might kill you faster than sleep deprivation.

With that thought, you set your cup aside, now completely put off. You pull your knees to your chest and just sit in agonizing silence. 

Loki emerges again, straightening his immaculate suit jacket and throwing a weary smile your way. “I believe that’s everything. Are you ready?”

You nod and uncurl yourself from the bed. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the vanity mirror on your way across the room and groan.

At his questioning stare, you gesture to your reflection. “I look like shit.”

“You do not,” his tone sounds almost wounded, like the very idea is preposterous. 

“I do.” You make your way over to him with a pout and wrap your arms around his neck. “We both look like a couple of sickies.”

He snorts and brushes some wayward curls from your face. “Well at least I’m dressed. Are you going to walk into Stark’s _foyay _in your pajamas?”__

__You can’t help but laugh at the mental image, despite yourself. “Well thank goodness we aren’t there for him, we’re going to see Bruce and you know he doesn’t care.”_ _

__“Fair enough,” he smiles at you, the relief evident in his face at your playful mood._ _

__You fold your hand in his and walk to the running car in the driveway, the backseat loaded with luggage._ _

__The ride to the tower is spent in silence._ _

__

__“Christ kid!”_ _

__Tony’s exclamation rings out in the quiet medical lab as he enters. Startled, Bruce snaps the lead of his pencil against his notepad, and shoots him a glare. Dr. Cho clicks her tongue in annoyance as she watches the spike in your heartbeat._ _

__“We’re a little busy here,” she huffs, gesticulating towards where you lay on a table, cords taped to your chest and head. “You’re skewing our results.”_ _

__Tony’s shocked expression quickly melts into his trademark smirk. “It isn’t my fault Carrie’s heart flutters whenever she sees me,” he jabs playfully, earning a few eye rolls. He seats himself next to Bruce and takes a look over his notes. His smug smile seems to falter a bit._ _

__“What is all this, though? What’s going on?”_ _

__“She’s ill,” Loki supplies from his own place beside you, his hand clasped in yours to keep it from shaking._ _

__“Yeah, okay, got that. Anyone else wanna be a little more helpful?”_ _

__“Nightmares,” you murmur. When he gives you a pointed stare, you continue, “I’ve been having these vivid nightmares for the last month or so. It’s so bad I can’t sleep at all.”_ _

__His brow furrows, “Well shit, you could’ve called me. We can get you hooked up with the good stuff- totally knocks you out, I’d know-”_ _

__“Tony,” you hold up a hand, the cord at your wrist straining against its tape. “Trust me, I’ve tried just about everything. Bruce and Helen are trying figure out what the underlying issue is.”_ _

__“With little success,” Bruce adds with a sad half-smile. “We’ve tested her for sleep apnea, blood pressure, abnormal metabolic reactions- nothing we find seems out of the ordinary.”_ _

__“And it isn’t PTSD,” you interject. “At least, I don’t think so… I’ve been through that before and it’s different.. It’s vivid and recurring, like I’m seeing a memory, but it’s never anything I recognize. I can’t ever make sense of what I’m seeing.”_ _

__Panic begins to wash over you as realization hits. If two of the smartest doctors in New York can’t figure out what’s wrong with you… will this ever end? If they can’t find anything with their impressive array of medical technology, is it even real? Or are you beginning to imagine things again?_ _

__You thought things were better. You thought you were done with all this - the hallucinations, the voices. What if you’re spiraling into that dark place all over again-_ _

__A firm shake to your shoulders snaps you from that train of thought and you realize you had been hyperventilating. The black spots around your vision start to clear as you suck in a deep breath._ _

__Loki stands over you with creased brows - an expression you’ve been seeing an awful lot lately - and mumbles, “there you are, can you hear me?”_ _

__You nod fervently, a few tears shaking loose down your cheeks. You hurriedly wipe them away and sit up, ignoring the concerned faces surrounding you._ _

__“Thanks for your help, both of you. I think I want to be done for today,” you force your voice not to waver as you rip the electrodes from your body._ _

__Bruce nods, any trace of mirth gone from his eyes. “Yeah, yeah of course. Tony, can you take them to their suite?”_ _

__The man in question breaks away from staring at you and hops to his feet. “Sure thing, uh, right this way.”_ _

__“We can find it fine, Stark,” Loki doesn’t even spare him a glance, watching you as he speaks instead as if you’ll faint right off the table any second._ _

__You hoist yourself onto you feet, wobbling slightly and gripping Loki’s offered arm. Distantly aware of the fact that you’re still in scrubs, you decide you’ll change back in your rooms. You don’t want to be here a second longer than necessary._ _

__

__You’re the first to enter the suite, practically speed walking to get to your small haven faster. You had been ignoring Loki’s occasional “are you sure you’re alright?” questions the whole way, your racing thoughts becoming too overwhelming to even speak._ _

__You drop your purse onto the sitting room couch and make a beeline for the kitchenette. You grab a glass and go to the tap for water when you spot a few planter boxes in the windowsill over the sink._ _

__Anyone else would have seen the little blue Forget-Me-Nots dotting the array of flowers as innocuous, pretty even, but the mere sight of them triggers something terrible inside you. You drop the glass, and it shatters against the bottom of the sink._ _

__The planters come next, bits of terracotta flying past your face as they seem to explode one by one before you. Dirt and torn flower petals coat the window and counter. Golden power surges through your fingertips and you grab at the rubble in a frenzy, aiming to destroy them until their blue is unrecognizable._ _

___“ _Stop!_ ” ____ _

____Loki’s voice from behind you, filled with a strange mix of fear and awe, jars you from your episode. You feel the power slowly leech out of you and you’re left staring down at your hands, covered in dirt and blood._ _ _ _

____You whip your head around to look at him, a dam breaking inside you. “I’m sorry, I-I’m so sorry-”_ _ _ _

____He hushes you, cautiously approaching until his arms are wrapped around you, holding your head to his chest. “It’s alright… we’ll… we’ll talk about this later. Let’s get you cleaned up first.”_ _ _ _

____He holds one of your hands to his face for inspection, wincing at the pieces of terracotta stuck in the skin. “One must wonder, though, what those poor flowers did to deserve such vitriol.”_ _ _ _

____Laughter bursts from you, loud and broken with sobs. “You have no idea.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____After the day you’ve had, the steaming bath water is euphoric. You take your time in the water, mixing in a few different homemade concoctions to make your skin soft and sweet-smelling. Your luxuriating only comes to an end when the bathwater goes cold and you reluctantly step out, wrapping up in a towel._ _ _ _

____You emerge from the bathroom, humming a made up tune, and stop short when you pass the sitting room. Your humming quickly stops and you feel red creeping up your neck._ _ _ _

____Thor waves at you, a goofy smile on his face. “Just the person I wanted to see!”_ _ _ _

____You shoot Loki a glare, who is sitting beside his brother trying to stifle his laughter. “Might want to get dressed darling, we have company.”_ _ _ _

____“You didn’t think to warn me before I came out wearing nothing but a towel?”_ _ _ _

____You cross your arms over your chest and shoot him your best disapproving look, which only seems to make him grin wider. “I’m terribly sorry, it didn’t even cross my mind.”_ _ _ _

____You stalk off to your room, shooting a “liar,” over your shoulder. You hear him finally break into laughter as you close the door behind you. He thinks he’s real funny._ _ _ _

____You dress with lightning speed, barely paying attention to what you’re grabbing, before you come back out. You muster up an ounce of confidence, acting as if you hadn’t nearly flashed your guest, and come to sit across from them in a recliner._ _ _ _

____Loki pushes a cup of tea into your hands, flashing you an apologetic smile. You take his peace offering, inhaling the soothing chamomile aroma._ _ _ _

____“What brings you here, Thor?” Best to get straight to the point, this whole day has been nothing short of exhausting._ _ _ _

____He drains his own cup and sets it aside, clasping his hands in his lap. His lips form a thin line as he contemplates his next words and the action startles you. You can’t remember seeing Thor look quite so somber before._ _ _ _

____“My brother advised me of your problem and it intrigued me. I know I may not be much help, but dreams like those often mean things where we come from. Can you tell me what you saw?”_ _ _ _

____You stare at him blankly, slowly lowering your drink onto the table in front of you. “What, like a premonition or something?”_ _ _ _

____“Possibly,” Loki adds from his place, a look of seriousness taking over his face as well. He rubs his jaw, staring distantly. “There’s also the possibility - be it a slim one - that this is some act of astral projection. You’ve done that before.”_ _ _ _

____Ah, right. He told you that story sometime during your recovery, though you don’t remember it yourself. “I don’t even know how I did that in the first place. Besides… I’m confident that’s not what this is.” If it were, Loki wouldn’t be sitting here before you, alive._ _ _ _

____You feel sick._ _ _ _

____Thor nods, “alright, we’ll cross that possibility off the list - astral er- astral whatever. Will you tell me about them?”_ _ _ _

______No more stalling, apparently_ , _you muse humorlessly. You clasp your hands together in an effort to hide how badly they’re shaking.__ _ _ _ _

______“It always starts with fire. And screaming.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The side of Thor’s mouth quirks up in a smirk. “Well, that isn’t much to go off of, I’m afraid.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You nod, taking a deep breath. “I’m in a place I don’t recognize. Like, an old village. Something you’d see in a fairy tale illustration, but everything’s on fire. There are soldiers, I think, evacuating homes. In some of them, I find myself helping them… in others, I just watch helplessly as the world burns around me. Loki is usually there, too.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The prince’s head snaps up at that. You’d told him bits and pieces of your dreams but you hadn't mentioned that much. Both men consider your words thoughtfully, and Loki even scribbles a few things down on a notepad he seemingly produced from thin air._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Last night I saw…” you bite your lip, a sudden spike of ice piercing your gut. If this is a premonition, as Thor says, then...then that would mean…_ _ _ _ _ _

______You quickly push the thought away. “Uh, same as always, actually. Just more burning buildings.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Loki’s eyes narrow at your awful pass at a lie, but he doesn’t press. Probably doesn’t want to cause another flower pot scenario today._ _ _ _ _ _

______Thor seems oblivious to your strange rambling there and steeples his fingers under his chin. “What does this village look like exactly? I’ve traversed the Nine Realms, perhaps I’ve seen it before.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You recline back, stretching your mind back to recall some of the smaller details of your dreams. You’ve been trying not to think about them as much as possible, so it comes with some difficulty. “Er… stone streets. The sky in my dreams has what looks like two moons, though I never paid it much attention…and stars. The sky is always filled with more stars than I’ve ever seen before, even when it’s light out”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Thor and Loki both sit up at that, exchanging a silent look that must be brother code for something. They both start firing questions at you in turn - specific things from the layout of the streets, the colors of the houses, things like that. You can’t answer many, as you really weren’t paying attention to details like that, but it seems to satisfy some unanswered question nonetheless._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, brother?” Thor asks._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What _ _are_ _you two thinking exactly? I’m a little lost here.”___ _ _ _ _ _

________“There’s no doubt… she’s never been there before, there’s no way her mind could have created all that by chance,” Loki completely ignores your question._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Thor stands from the couch, the springs groaning from his weight. “Thank you for entertaining my questions, I think we may be onto something with this premonition thing.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“ _What? _” you splutter, standing as well. “How do you know? Where are you going?”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Thor smiles and starts to head for the door. “To talk to my father, of course. I’ll be in touch soon.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The door shuts behind him and you swivel to face Loki, irritation starting to build from all this cryptic talk._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He isn't bothered by your stare, deep in thought. Finally, he looks to you and sighs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Asgard may be in danger.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey here's a fun drinking game: take a shot every time I have a scene of characters drinking tea while spouting exposition and you'll fucking die.


End file.
